


Whatever Our Souls Are Made Of

by kj_feybarn



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Or rather Friends to Potential Lovers, Soulmates, They'll figure that out as they go
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:13:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26571988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kj_feybarn/pseuds/kj_feybarn
Summary: To have a soulmate was a gift from the Force, a reminder that no one had to traverse this galaxy—so often cold, and dark, and terrible—alone. Soulmates took so many different forms, they were reminded, how could they not, when the galaxy was full of so many different people who needed so many different things. But each form it took was just as valuable as another.By the time Obi-Wan was ten, he was the last of his creche mates to have not received markings on his skin from his soulmate.Still, he took to drawing on his left wrist, a new picture each day, starting with a clean slate each morning and slowly adding to it throughout the day. Some days it was nothing more than a rough sketch, far too busy to manage more. Other days he managed more intricate designs.He wondered if his soulmate saw them but simply didn’t want to answer.Or, and Obi-Wan tried not to think about it, whether he simply didn’t have a soulmate at all.It was a silly fear, he told himself, everyone had a soulmate.
Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody & Obi-Wan Kenobi, CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 69
Kudos: 1536





	Whatever Our Souls Are Made Of

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheAceApples](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAceApples/gifts).



> This is for you Apples, Happy Birthday! It's a little rushed, I'm afraid. But I hope you enjoy.
> 
> Also, timeline? What timeline? This worked better for me, so, *whoops*.

**Age 10 - Jedi Temple, Coruscant**

Obi-Wan could distinctly remember how each of his creche mates had reacted the day their skin had been marked by someone not themselves.

The shock, the joy, the rush for a marker so that they could _double check_.

The Crechemasters hadn’t been able to get Quinlan to let go of the marker for almost three days, and nearly every inch of his available skin had been filled with both his markings and the markings of his soulmate.

It was always a cause for celebration, not unlike the celebrations they’d have for life-days. Master Yoda would come to the creche, the last mark his soulmate had ever given him a visible scar against wrinkled green skin, and would tell them stories.

To have a soulmate was a gift from the Force, a reminder that no one had to traverse this galaxy—so often cold, and dark, and terrible—alone. Soulmates took so many different forms, they were reminded, how could they not, when the galaxy was full of so many different people who needed so many different things. But each form it took was just as valuable as another.

By the time Obi-Wan was ten, he was the last of his creche mates to have not received markings on his skin from his soulmate.

But there were always so many other things to worry about. Perfecting that kata. Studying for the galactic history final. Finding a way to avoid Bruck and his bullying.

Still, he took to drawing on his left wrist, a new picture each day, starting with a clean slate each morning and slowly adding to it throughout the day. Some days it was nothing more than a rough sketch, far too busy to manage more. Other days he managed more intricate designs.

He wondered if his soulmate saw them but simply didn’t want to answer.

Or if perhaps his soulmate was still too young to notice.

Or, and Obi-Wan tried not to think about it, whether he simply didn’t have a soulmate at all.

It was a silly fear, he told himself, _everyone_ had a soulmate.

**Age 12 - Undersea Mines, Bandomeer**

Intention, Obi-Wan had been taught, was what mattered.

Not everything that smudged a person’s skin would appear on that of their soulmate, it was the intent behind these things that mattered.

The tools he’d been given to work in the mine was dull, but Obi-Wan was determined and for once his clumsiness was almost helpful—though the small cut he’d been aiming for turned into a gash—and soon he was bleeding.

He kept his head low, not wanting to draw attention as he started finger writing on his arm in blood. It didn’t take long to write a short message begging for them to contact the Jedi Order or the Agricorps to inform them he’d been enslaved.

He didn’t mean too, but the gash on his arm was still bleeding, and the fear and desperation were clawing at his insides. _Help, please. Please help._ Over and over, covering his arms, his sides, anywhere that he could reach and that could be covered by his clothes.

An endless plea for _someone_ to hear him.

He didn’t have a soulmate, or if he did, they’d ignored him all his life.

But he didn’t have access to the Force, he had no allies on this mining ship, he was alone and abandoned and all he had was his own blood, his own skin, and the promise that he’d heard all his life that _no one was meant to be alone_.

No one answered; there was no writing on his skin that wasn’t his own.

The cut he’d given himself held no purpose other than to possibly give him an infection, the words he’d written went unread, his cries for help went unheard.

Obi-Wan was alone.

**Age 17 - On the run, Mandalore**

There was a scar on Satine’s arm, a silly message sent by her soulmate before they’d died. Satine showed it to him four months into their run, and Obi-Wan had listened as she’d whispered about how the two of them had been friends for nearly as long as Satine could remember, sharing first childish pictures, and then later, words and stories.

Satine had only met them once, when she’d been fifteen, before death—a Death Watch attack on a civilian population, where she’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time—had taken the other girl from her.

“We were just children,” Satine whispered. “I don’’t know what we might have become if we’d had the chance. These wars stole that from us, just like they’ve stolen that from so many others.”

Obi-Wan had never had a soulmate—had quietly given up on _ever_ having a soulmate—he could never _fully_ understand.

Except he remembered Cerasi, remembered Nield. They had not been anything so fate-bound as soulmates, but they had been…

They’d been _them_. Cerasi, Nield, and Obi-Wan, individual parts of a whole.

But then Cerasi had been cut down, and whatever they _might_ have been had been cut apart without her.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry you lost that.”

Satine smiled at him. “She would have liked you.” Obi-Wan fully recognized that as incredibly high praise.

“You mean the two of you would gang up on me every chance you got?”

Satine’s eyes sparked with a glint of humor. “I have no idea what you mean.”

Obi-Wan felt his heart skip a beat, the way he’d noted it doing whenever Satine smiled at him like that. Sometimes, _sometimes_ , he couldn’t help but wonder…

He shook the thought away.

**Age 19 - Palace Gardens, Naboo**

_He’s dead_. Obi-Wan wrote. _Master Qui-Gon’s dead. I’m a Knight. Anakin will be my padawan. I don’t know if I can do this._

Despite himself he waited, staring at where his own writing was sprawled across his forearm. He hadn’t been able to sleep since they’d retaken Naboo, the loss and uncertainty twisting around him, demanding that he keep busy, stay useful, do whatever it took to not let his own thoughts overwhelm him.

He brought the pen to his skin again, but hesitated there.

For humans, most soulmates were within a ten year age span, and yet here he was, still writing messages to someone who either didn’t care or didn’t exist.

The lessons from the creche came back to him. _No one is meant to walk this life alone_.

Except, he was alone.

Master Qui-Gon was gone; he had left Obi-Wan with the responsibility to raise and care for a deeply-traumatized padawan.

He dropped the pen, the tip leaving a long line against his arm.

It was time to let go, time to let go of what was, essentially, a fantasy.

He stood from where he’d knelt on the soft grass of the palace gardens.

**Age 23 - Jedi Temple, Coruscant**

“It’s not that you’re not allowed to write to Padme,” Obi-Wan said for what might have been the fourth time. Anakin was 12 now, and seemed to be starting on the teenage rebellion early, every thing Obi-Wan said a matter of contention.

He was still an excellent padawan, and after three years together Obi-Wan was incredibly fond of him. It did not stop Anakin from occasionally being the cause of the ache behind his eyes and the painful throb in his temple.

“She’s my _soulmate_.”

“I know.” Obi-Wan sighed. “And as I was saying, I wasn’t telling you to _not_ write to Padme. I was merely reminding you that Padme is very busy; she has an entire planet that depends on her and that you should respect her time.”

Obi-Wan hadn’t realized quite how much Anakin had taken to spamming Padme until Sabe had quietly reached out to him.

“You wouldn’t understand,” Anakin argued. “You don’t even _have_ a soulmate.”

Obi-Wan’s heart ached a little at the reminder, but he ignored it, raising an eyebrow pointedly. “Anakin, your friendship with Padme is very important to you, yes?”

Anakin hesitated for a second, as though not sure how to answer. “Yes.”

“And you care a great deal for Padme, yes?”

That hesitation again. “Yes. That’s not a _bad_ thing. I’m allowed to care about her!”

Obi-Wan nodded. “You are. There is absolutely _nothing_ wrong with caring about her. But, sometimes caring about someone means doing what’s best for them.”

Anakin just blinked. “Of course I would.”

“And that means respecting that she has duties and responsibilities that are important, and _not_ demanding her attention.”

“But I care for her.”

Obi-Wan held back a sigh. “Yes, and she cares for you, you—”

“You really think so?” Anakin interrupted, eyes wide.

“Yes, I do. Now—” Anakin didn’t seem to be listening anymore, clearly lost in thought. Obi-Wan did sigh this time. “Just be sure that you respect her needs, Anakin.”

**Age 31 - On Board the Negotiator, Hyperspace**

“I’ve always wondered, sir, why don’t you write on yourself?” Cody was leaning back in his chair, looking _almost_ relaxed.

Obi-Wan smiled at him from over his teacup, pleased to see Cody at ease. It had taken months to convince Cody to relax around him, but Obi-Wan thought that they might be on their way to being friends.

He considered Cody’s question carefully. The thought of his lack of soulmate still carried it’s own soft sting, but for for the most part he had long ago made his peace with the fact that he was simply not meant to have a soulmate. It did not stop him from creating meaningful relationships. “I don’t have a soulmate,” Obi-Wan acknowledged. “Or if I do, they never cared to respond or reach out. At some point I realized that holding out for someone that wasn't going to be there was doing more harm than good.”

Cody nodded, there was a thoughtful look on his face. “We weren’t allowed to write on ourselves, even those who had soulmates trying to write to them. Anyone spotted writing on themselves was—” he grimaced. “Well, the Longnecks were very strict on it.”

Obi-Wan frowned, the more he heard about the Kaminoans, the more disturbed and upset he felt. He shuffled through his desk; while he no longer wrote on himself, he did his best to always keep a physical writing tool nearby given how often Anakin lost them. He found one, leaning forward to hand it to Cody.

“No one should traverse this galaxy alone.” Cody looked hesitant, moving slowly to grasp the pen. Obi-Wan gave him his most reassuring smile. “You and all your brothers should have the right to reach out to your soulmates. Let your brothers know that _no one_ will be punished for writing on themselves. If _anyone_ tries to give you or your brothers grief about it I’ll handle it.”

Obi-Wan saw Cody’s hand tighten around the pen, eyes darting down to it. “Thank you, sir.”

Obi-Wan nodded, satisfied. He’d reach out to the Council, let them know about the situation so that they could reassure as many clones as possible that they were undisputedly allowed to reach out to their soulmates. Shaak Ti would undoubtedly have a number of very strong words for the Kaminoans.

He was almost sad he wouldn’t be there to see it.

**Age 32 - Battlefield, Christophsis**

“You know, you’ve got your blasters for a reason,” Obi-Wan pointed out.

Cody’s head tilted to the side in the way that meant he was amused. “I’m aware, sir.”

“Oh, are you?” Obi-Wan raised a hand to his beard as though in deep thought, looking over the street where the battle had been raging. “I wasn’t sure you knew, what with the way you were kicking and punching your way through those droids.”

Cody straightened, posture indicating that he was pleased with himself. “It worked, sir.”

Obi-Wan huffed a laugh. “It did at that. Perhaps I should pick up a tip or two from you.”

If anything, that pleased Cody even further. “We could spar together, if you’d like.”

“Nothing would give me greater pleasure, Commander.” His commlink sounded, a reminder that there was more to be done. “But for now, we’ve got droids expecting us, it would be terrible manners if we kept them waiting.”

**Age 32 - Twi’lek Village, Ryloth**

Obi-Wan sighed, sitting down for what felt like the first time in days. Across from him, Cody looked up from where he was leaning against the outside wall of one of the recently repaired houses.

“You all right, sir?”

“Oh yes. Just fine.” They had enough homes restored that the twi’leks would have a roof over their heads tonight, and he’d just gotten out of a holo-meeting with the Council to discuss his and the battalions next orders. He’d hoped they’d be able to stay long enough to finish helping the twi’leks, but unfortunately they were needed elsewhere.

Cody was twisting something between his hands, and Obi-Wan tilted his head to see it better. It was the pen that Obi-Wan had given him so Cody could reach out to his soulmate.

Obi-Wan smiled softly at the sight. Once the men had realized Obi-Wan had been serious about allowing them to reach out to their soulmates they’d fallen into it head first.

The results were, quite frankly, astonishing.

Many of the clones had soulmates among themselves. Waxer and Boil, Fives and Echo. But there were far more who had soulmates out within the galaxy, and their soulmates were rising up, fierce and determined, to protect their newly found soulmates.

The Senate had not been prepared for the Galaxy’s reaction, and while they were still stubbornly holding off on giving the men the rights they deserved, it was now clear that they would _have_ to fold or they’d very swiftly be falling out of grace.

Obi-Wan had not asked Cody about how his soulmate had reacted, or what Cody and his soulmate talked about.

He hoped they were happy.

**Age 33 - Dex’s Diner, Coruscant**

“This is…” Cody trailed off, and Obi-Wan couldn’t help but smirk. They rarely got leave, so Obi-Wan had taken the opportunity to bring Cody to Dex’s the first day they were on Coruscant, just in case they ended up shipped out earlier than planned.

“Good, isn’t it?” Obi-Wan said, not bothering to hide the fact that he was smug.

Cody gave him a _look_. “Yes, it’s good. No need to be smug, General, it’s not like you’re the one who cooked it.”

Well, that was true. But his friend’s life had far too little pleasure in it, and Obi-Wan couldn’t help but feel just the slightest bit self-satisfied when he was able to give Cody even the smallest bit of pleasure.

**Age 33 - On Board the Negotiator, Hyperspace**

“You know, you’d get more sleep if you didn’t let General Skywalker unload all his paperwork on you.”

Obi-Wan looked up to find Cody taking a seat across from him, balancing two trays full of food. “If I wait for Anakin to do it, it will never get done.”

Cody pursed his lips, clearly not satisfied with the answer. “If you do it for him, he’ll never learn.”

Obi-Wan sighed, because it was true. “I know. I’ve spoken to him about it, but…” he shook his head. “He’s an excellent military leader, but he doesn’t quite see the importance of paperwork, unfortunately. And the 501st would take the brunt of the punishment if I let it fall between the cracks.”

Cody titled his head in acknowledgment. “Well, you take half of this, I’ll take half of that.” He pushed one of the trays of food so it was in front of Obi-Wan, holding out his hand for a data pad.

Obi-Wan hesitated, but then passed over the supply acquisition forms. “I don’t deserve you, Cody.”

Cody smiled at him, and despite the teasing glint in his eyes, the smile was clearly sincere. “Yet you have me anyways.”

**Age 34 - Labor Processing Hub, Kadavo**

“Are you all right?” Obi-Wan asked, keeping his voice as quiet as he could manage. It would do no good to bring the guards attention to them.

Rex managed a tired smile. “As well as can be expected.”

Obi-Wan understood the sentiment all too well.

They both settled down for the night, doing their best to find what little comfort they could on the cold, hard slabs they’d been given for beds.

Despite himself, Obi-Wan found his mind going back to the last time he’d found a collar around his neck. There was still a small scar on his upper arm from where he’d cut himself, the cut having healed before any chance to get bacta on it.

He ran his finger over his arm as though writing.

Both of his cuffs had an attachment on the side where a chain could be linked to keep his hands together. He couldn’t say what it was that possessed him next, he rubbed his wrist against the stone slab until it was sharpened, and then bringing the newly sharpened tool up to where he’d cut himself last time.

This time, at least, he didn’t end up with a heavily bleeding gash, just the small cut he’d been aiming for.

 _Enslaved. Kadavo._ He sighed, feeling foolish, he could still remember the last time, the absolute hopelessness that had enveloped him. _I suppose after all this time, I’m still a fool_.

He shook his head, pulling at his sleeve to cover his strange lapse in sense. He didn’t know who Rex’s soulmate was, had not wanted to pry into something so personal, but perhaps Rex’s soulmate would be able to give their location to someone who could help.

Before he could catch Rex’s attention, there was a strange, tingling sensation against his arm.

He froze. That wasn’t _possible_.

He slowly rolled his sleeve back up, staring at the dark blue handwriting that was scrawled beneath his bloody writing. _Hold on, General. Help is coming_.

It took a moment for everything to line up in his mind. The title, the fact that this was the first time they’d marked each other. A clone, his soulmate was a clone. Obi-Wan hadn’t written on his own arm since his Knighting and the clones had only been allowed to write on themselves after the war had started.

He didn’t know why his soulmate hadn’t been one of the ones to reach out. Perhaps they hadn’t wanted a soulmate at all, if so, Obi-Wan would absolutely respect that.

The thought hurt a little, but he’d been without a soulmate for so long and above all he wanted to respect his soulmate’s desires.

He swallowed hard, tracing the words his soulmate had left him.

The sound of a guard coming reached Obi-Wan’s ears and he quickly pulled his sleeves back down, feigning sleep.

He had a soulmate.

 _He wasn’t alone_.

**Age 34 - On Board the Negotiator, Hyperspace**

“You better have gotten Coarse’s permission to leave medbay, General.”

Obi-Wan looked up from his datapad, forcing a smile at the sight of his Commander. “Don’t worry, Cody. I have no desire to have an annoyed Coarse after me for skipping out.”

Cody frowned, clearly unhappy. Given the shape Obi-Wan was in, he couldn’t completely bring himself to be surprised.

“I was wondering if you had a moment for us to talk, sir.”

Obi-Wan put down his datapad. “Of course, what can I do for you Cody?”

Cody hesitated, stepping forward and taking a spot leaning against the desk. Obi-Wan took a moment to take a closer look at his Commander. The man looked anxious, and, Obi-Wan noted with some surprise, was not wearing his armor, dressed only in his blacks.

“Is something wrong?”

Cody shook his head immediately. “No sir, everything’s fine. More than fine, I think.”

Obi-Wan frowned, because Cody certainly didn’t seem fine.

“If you’re sure.”

Cody nodded. “May I show you something, General?”

“Of course.”

Cody didn’t move for a moment before rolling up his sleeve and grabbing a pen he’d brought with him, pressing it against his skin.

Obi-Wan froze, could feel the soft tingle he’d felt on Kadavo on his own arm. Cody’s hand shifted, writing something. Obi-Wan could feel the sensation on his arm grow and shift in perfect tandem.

He took a deep breath, pulling his sleeve up to look at what was there.

 _I’m here, General_. He ran his hand over the words, marveling at it.

He looked back up at Cody who was staring at him, chin raised. “Cody.” He swallowed hard. “I want you to know that this doesn’t have to change anything, if you don’t want it to. You never reached out to your soulmate before, and I won’t demand that you reach out to me now.”

“I know, General. I know you wouldn’t. I…” Cody looked down. “I wouldn’t change our friendship for the galaxy, General.”

Obi-Wan nodded, he felt much the same. Cody had become one of the most important people in his life very quickly, for all that Obi-Wan had longed for his soulmate almost all his life, it was strange to realize that it didn’t seem to have changed much at all.

“I—” Cody hesitated. “If there was—” Cody sighed, straightening a little. “You’re one of the most important people in my life, General.” He stopped, frowning. “No, you’re one of the most important people in my life, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan felt his mouth fall open in soft surprise, he’d been trying to get Cody to use his name for years, and now… He swallowed.

“Wherever our relationship goes, however it develops, all that matters to me is that you and I are together, in whatever shape that takes.”

There was a wealth that went unsaid.

Cody was his dearest friend, was one of his most stalwart companions. Cody was stable, and strong. He was passionate and good. Obi-Wan already loved him, imagined it would be easy, to let that love become _in love_ , but even if that didn’t happen, it wouldn’t make what they had any less.

He reached out, gently taking the pen from Cody’s hand.

This time, when he wrote on his arm, he did it with the knowledge that someone was on the other end, that someone would see.

That it was Cody who would received his words felt natural and right in a way that Obi-Wan doubted he’d ever be able to explain.

_You have me, Cody._

Cody looked down at his arm, a soft smile slipping onto his face. “You’re going to enjoy that, aren’t you?”

Obi-Wan shrugged. “I’ve been waiting all my life to have someone be there.”

“I’m here, General. I’ll always be here.”

Obi-Wan swallowed, his heart in his throat. “I know.” He had known, long before they’d every marked each other.

Cody moved closer, looking hesitant. “May I?”

It took a minute for Obi-Wan to realize what he was asking, but he nodded. Cody let out a small breath, before leaning down to better reach Obi-Wan in his seated position.

The touch of forehead to forehead was soft and almost painfully intimate. Obi-Wan could feel Cody’s breath against his skin. They stayed there for a long moment, just _feeling_ each other.

Cody shifted first, the softest brush of lips against Obi-Wan’s own. Soft, easy, safe.

Another brush of lips, no deeper than the first time.

Obi-Wan smiled a little, at the care, the tenderness behind it all.

He didn’t know where this was going to go, but he felt safe in knowing that they’d figure that out together.

On both their arms, the words stood together, a promise.

_I’m here, General._

_You have me, Cody._


End file.
